Shattered Beginnings
by Impalette42
Summary: Alternate version of the Pilot...what if the first meeting between Sam and Dean took place months later, during the events of Faith? Much Winchester drama and of course, Hurt!Dean because, really, what's a story without it? COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Shattered Beginnings**

_Summary: Alternate version of the Pilot...what if the first meeting between Sam and Dean took place months later, during the events of Faith?_

Author's Notes: Oh yeah, I have no idea what I'm doin' here people, but this story popped up from somewhere so thought, okay why not write it down. I'm just gonna kinda let this one go where it wants so no idea of the length quite yet...but of course, reviews, good or bad, are always appreciated :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Sam and Dean. But I like to pretend I do :D

* * *

He wasn't sure what woke him at first, just blinked the sleep from his eyes, trying to decipher what could have pulled him from his dreams.

Then...

There! Another soft 'thump' and Sam was instantly on alert. He may have been out of the game for awhile but a hunter's instincts never really disappeared.

He tensed, torn between the urge to tackle the approaching threat and the need to protect the sleeping form beside him. After a quick glance at Jess, if only to confirm that she was alright, he headed downstairs.

He moved swiftly and quietly, back pressed against the wall, moving soundlessly like his Dad had taught him. He might have loathed his father's lessons, but, hell, didn't mean they weren't useful.

And there were other noises now, more thumps, scraping, and what sounded like a quiet groan…

Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, Sam quietly turned the corner, back to the wall, all senses on guard.

At first glimpse of the dark figure crossing the room, Sam moved, no hesitation, his only thought to take down the intruder that had dared to violate his house, his home.

It wasn't until a few minutes later, when he'd paused to take in the face of the man pinned to the floor, that he realized he had just kicked his big brother's ass.

* * *

"Dean?" Sam breathed, looking down in amazement. "You scared the crap outta me!"

"Hello to you too, little bro," Dean said, eyebrow raised. He glanced around the room. "So, uh not that this whole togetherness thing isn't _awesome_ but...you plannin' on getting your giant ass off me anytime soon?

Sam blinked, then shook his head as if willing the situation to sink in.

His older brother was _here_. In his house.

_His_ _brother_…who he hadn't seen or spoken to in almost two years, the brother that for all intensive purposes had cut him out of his life, was sitting in his living room.

No, wait…scratch that.

His brother was PINNED in his living room. Sam didn't know which was more surreal, Dean coming to visit him, or the fact that Sam had managed to take him down.

He stood and reached out a hand to Dean, who grasped it with a groan. "Color me impressed, Sammy. Didn't think you'd be keeping with training here in Stepford."

"I haven't been," Sam said coldly. "Guess you're just losing your touch."

"Yeah, well. What can I say?" Dean gave a wry smile. "Must be getting rusty in my old age."

Sam's mouth tightened into a line. "What the hell are you doing here, Dean?"

"I _was_ looking for a beer."

Sam ran a hand over his face. He'd almost forgotten what an ass his brother could be.

"Dean…What. The hell. Are you doing here?"

Ignoring the question, Dean stepped around Sam and surveyed the dark room. "Not a bad place, Sammy…." Squinting in the dim light, he moved to the bookcase and picked up the small ceramic cat that had belonged to Jess's grandmother. He waved it in his brother's direction. "Course, your decorating taste could use some work."

"First…" Sam strode over and plucked the small knickknack from his brother's hands. "It's Sam. And second, man, what is your deal? I haven't seen or heard from you in over two years and now you show up to discuss collectibles? Why. Are. You. Here?"

Dean put a hand to his chest. "What? Can't I just drop by and check up on my little brother?"

"Right," Sam huffed. "Cause you and Dad have been so concerned up till now." He flicked on the nearby light switch.

And stopped cold.

"Jesus!" Instantly his hands were on his brother's shoulders.

Dean looked like roadkill. His face was pale, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead that Sam hadn't noticed in the moonlight. Even worse were the dark circles under his brother's eyes and the stiff way in which he was held himself… like even breathing was painful.

Sam ran his hands down Dean's sides, looking for any injury, any reason why his normally strong, confident, pain-in-the-ass big brother looked like he could crumple to the ground at any second.

"Dean…what the hell happened to you?"

Brushing off his brother's hands, Dean moved awkwardly towards the window and lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. "Oh, you know…nothin' much. A little hunting, a little vanquishing of evil…" he paused and picked awkwardly at a scratch in the end table. "A little electrocution."

Sam blinked and shook his head. "Electro-?"

Dean looked up and met his brother's eyes.

"I'm dying, Sam."

TBC

* * *

So?

Comments? Concerns? Complete and utter crap??

Feel free to let me know :)


	2. Chapter 2

"Dying?" Sam repeated incredulously. "You're…dying?" He stiffened. "I don't think that's funny."

"Not meant to be." Dean gingerly lowered himself onto the couch, right hand fisted over his heart. He looked exhausted.

"But...how...?" Sam spluttered. "What do you mean you're dying??"

"I was on a hunt," Dean replied, leaning back against the cushions. "And...let's just say it didn't go very well."

Sam stood rooted by the entryway, staring at his brother as if he'd sprouted a second head. Which might have been more believeable.

Cause Dean dying? His brain couldn't process that shit.

"It's my heart, Sam."

Sam made a noise in his throat.

He was dreaming. That was it. Because there was no way…no WAY this bizarre middle of the night drama unfolding before him was real.

His eyes ran over his brother, taking in the pale skin, the smudges under his eyes...

As much as he wanted to ignore it, as much as he wanted to pretend this whole thing was some late night mindtrip…deep down Sam knew. One look at his brother and he knew, without a single doubt, that the bruises on Dean's face, the aged way in which he moved, that complete aura of acceptance and defeat radiating off of him in waves could only mean one thing…

Dean was dying.

Sam opened his mouth. Closed it again. Shook his head.

"No."

Dean sighed. "Sammy, what can I say, man? It's a dangerous gig... I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story."

"No, you're not dying, alright. You're just...NOT."

"Sam…"

Sam's gut twisted. "Look, there's got to be something out there, alright? …Dad's got to know some way, some spell mystical object or hoodoo priest…or…There's got to be a something."

"Sam. It's over."

"No, Dean!" He pointed angrily at his brother. "You can't just come here and lay this on me! You can't just give up! Not with what we know, okay. We still have options."

"Yeah, burial or cremation."

Sam started pacing, his mind running over their Dad's list of allies. "Bobby. Did you call Bobby? What about Pastor Jim, I'm sure he can figure something out. Or Caleb, Caleb's got to have-"

"SAM!"

Sam's head snapped up.

"Dude, will you stop moving for a minute?" Dean said, eyes closed. "Makin' me dizzy over here."

Sam felt a lump growing in his throat. God, his brother looked exhausted. Dean shouldn't look exhausted. Dean was strong, even when he was injured, even when he was hurt, Dean was always strong. Dean couldn't be dying. This was just wrong, totally, completely, cosmically WRONG.

"Sam…it's okay, man."

Sam's eyes flashed.

"Okay? You think this is _okay_?" Sam was pacing again. "Dean, you show up here in the middle of the night after I pretty much believed you and Dad fell off the face of the Earth, you break in, you tell me you're DYING and it's supposed to be OKAY? What part of you thinks ANY OF THIS IS OKAY, DEAN??"

"Sam?" Jess's worried voice wafted down from upstairs and Sam turned, startled.

"_Fuck_," he muttered, seeing her face staring down at him from the top of the stairs. "Jess, I'm sorry. Everything's ok— " He stopped and glanced at Dean. "Everything's fine."

"Who are you talking to?" Joining him at the entrance to the living room, she froze as she noticed the figure on the couch.

Sam swallowed. "Jess, this is Dean. Dean, this is my girlfriend…Jessica."

Jess glanced at Sam, then smiled as she recognized the name. "Wait, your brother, Dean?"

Sam wondered if it was possible to choke on the lump in his throat. "Yeah." He said quietly. His brother, Dean.

His fucking jerk of a brother, Dean, who decided that it would be okay to die on him.

And to top it off, the fucking jerk was busy making small talk.

"I love the Smurfs," he was saying to Jess, his best Cheshire grin in place. "You know, I gotta tell you... you are completely out of my brother's league."

Her mouth twisted in amusement. "Just let me put something on…"

Dean held up a hand. "Oh, no no, no, I wouldn't dream of it." He smiled and rested one arm over the back of the couch. "Seriously. "

Sam rolled his eyes despite himself. Leave it to Dean to be a perv even on his deathbed.

He turned to Jessica. "Hey, Jess…would you excuse us for a minute?" Sam nodded toward his brother. "We kind of have some…family stuff we need to take care of."

Jess studied him then glanced again towards the couch. "Sure," she said slowly. She gave Dean a quick smile, then waved and headed towards the stairs.

As her foot hit the first step, she turned back to Sam. "You sure everything's alright?" She whispered, moving to place a hand on his arm.

"Yeah." He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Go ahead. I'll be up in a bit."

She nodded and pulled away, still not entirely convinced, but sensing that he needed space.

When she was gone, Sam leaned back against the wall.

Dean was dying.

So why was Sam the one who felt like his life just ended?

TBC...

* * *

Enjoying the little soap opera? Think it's cheesier than an extra large pizza? Let me know!

Next up...a little brotherly schmoop methinks. I'm gonna try and keep this story updated quickly (otherwise my Muse gets distracted by shiny objects and runs away) so hope to have the next part up by Monday.


	3. Chapter 3

Pushing off from the wall, Sam made his way over to the couch. He sat down slowly, folding his hands in his lap, his long legs brushing Dean's. At just that small bit of physical contact, Sam felt his body relax, like that piece of himself that been missing for two years was finally back in place.

God, he'd missed his brother.

His brother…who was warm and alive and back in his life.

And, who, in less than a minute, had shattered his world.

Dean didn't look up when the couch dipped, his attention focused entirely on his silver ring. He twisted it around on his finger.

Sam chewed on his lower lip.

Funny…of all the conversations he'd imagined for a reunion with his brother, this one never made the list.

Dean was dying. And Sam had no idea what to say.

He wanted to ask for details, part of him needing to know what had gone down. The other part didn't actually want to _know_, the urge to find out the truth conflicting with the desire to pretend that none of this was happening. As if just hearing the words would make it real.

But he had to ask.

Sam cleared his throat.

"So…"

Dean looked up.

"How did it…?" Sam paused. "What exactly happened, Dean?"

Another twirl of the ring.

Another awkward silence.

"I screwed up."

Sam frowned.

Okay, he hadn't expected that one.

Dean sighed. "The job… I screwed up." He lowered his hands and rested them on his thighs.

Sam sat quietly, waiting for Dean to continue, not wanting to push his brother before he was ready.

"I'd gotten a tip on a Rawhead," he began. "Fugly-assed thing had chased some kids into an abandoned house." Dean kept his gaze purposefully away from Sam's as he spoke, his eyes wandering over the bookcase, over the pictures in the frames.

"Rawheads are dumb as fuck, but they have this thick skin. You can't pierce it. So bullets, knives, all the usual means are useless."

He paused, caught for a moment on a photo of Sam and Jess. One of Sam's favorites, it was taken on a trip to the beach. Sam stood behind his girlfriend, arms wrapped around her middle, both of them with these amazing smiles on their faces. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his brother smile like that.

Dean cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'd uh, just finished putting together this amped-up tazer…100,000 volts. I mean I was gonna take this thing _down, _Sammy. We're talking extra crispy."

Sam gave a small smile.

" 'Cept it caught me off-guard. Knocked the tazer right out of my hands," his fingers twitched, digging into his jeans. "Managed to grab it, but the bastard was coming right at me, and damn, that thing could _move_, and I… just reacted. Shot at it before I could even think."

Sam swallowed. "But if you got it, then how-?"

"Yeah… uh…," he scratched his forehead. "Turns out, water and electricity…not such a great mix." He huffed softly. "Prob'ly woulda been smart to notice that puddle I was lying in before I pulled the trigger, huh?"

Sam felt the blood drain from his face. "God…Dean…"

Dean shrugged. "Hindsight, Sammy. It is a bitch." He kept his tone light, but Sam could hear the bitterness behind the words.

"But I mean, you're here…you walked away…"

"My body's screwed, Sam. Heart's cooked. Game over."

"There must be something they can do. Some kind of treatment…"

"Look, man, I didn't come here to be saved. I just needed to…tie up loose ends. You know… Winchester rule number 57, no unfinished business and all that." He elbowed his brother lightly in the ribs. "Last thing I wanted was to haunt your geeky ass for all eternity."

"Not funny," Sam said quietly

"Come on, it's a little funny," Dean joked. "Besides, it could have been worse. Least I got a couple more weeks out of the deal." He forced a smile. "I mean hell, could've just ended there…alone in some basement…just me, a puddle and Barbeque Bill. Least I got to say goodbye."

"Stop it."

Sam felt the emotions rush at him like a tidal wave. He was off the couch and facing his brother in one fluid movement.

"Just stop it, Dean!"

Dean looked up, surprised by the outburst.

"Stop talking like you're dead already!"

"Matter of time, Sammy."

"Look, you can't just give up. There's always options. Hell, what does Dad say about all this?"

Dean gave a wistful smile. "Good question. You manage to ask him, be sure to let me know."

Sam shook his head. "What?"

"Dad's gone, Sam. Took off a couple months ago."

"He left?" Sam asked incredulously. "He left you to hunt alone?"

"Dude," Dean looked offended. "I'm twenty-six."

Sam's jaw tightened. "Were you hunting alone when you went after the Rawhead?"

Dean didn't say anything, his ring suddenly fascinating again.

"That fucking bastard."

"Sam…"

"All that talk about family and responsibility…all that shit he gave me for wanted to go to school…and _he_ leaves?"

"If Dad left it was because he had his reasons."

"Why do you always do that? Why do you always defend him? He left you with no one to watch your back, Dean. You got hurt because of _him, _hell you're_ dying _because of him, and you're still kissing his ass!"

Despite the energy it cost him, Dean was instantly up and in his brother's face. "What is it with you anyway? Always so ready to blame Dad. Always so ready to make him the asshole." Dean moved a hand to his chest. "Jesus, Sam, I'm so tired of this _crap_! You want to blame, Dad. Fine. But I didn't exactly see you there backin' me up."

Sam looked as if he'd been punched.

He opened his mouth but stopped as he noticed his brother unconsciously press a hand to his heart.

"Dean?"

"_Shit_..." Dean groaned and closed his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, right hand gripping his left arm hard enough to bruise.

Sam took a step toward his brother and grabbed his elbow. " "Dean… you're scaring me, man. Talk to me."

His brother's eyes were squeezed shut, face contorted in pain.

Sam was panicking now.

"S'okay," Dean gritted out. "S'okay…It'll pass… in a minute."

Sam swallowed, every second of seeing his brother in agony tearing at his own heart.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dean's face relaxed slightly, and he released the death grip on his left arm. He sagged and Sam rushed to support him, the weight pulling both brothers down to the couch.

After a minute: "M'okay, Sam."

Sam blew out the breath he'd been holding. He took in his brother's pale face, the lines of pain still evident around his eyes and mouth. "You know, man, your definition of "okay" is kinda screwed."

"Bitch."

"Stop talking and catch your breath, jerk."

Dean lifted his middle finger.

Sam shook his head. "Come on." He had his hand braced across Dean's back and could still feel the tremors running through his brother's body. "Lie down," he said softly.

He helped Dean ease back against the cushions, gently shifting him over so he could bring his legs up. When he had Dean settled, Sam slid to the floor, completely drained. His butt hit the ground, head resting against the edge of the couch.

"You know, this whole dying thing?" Dean began breathlessly. "Kinda bites the big one."

"You're not going to die, Dean."

"Sam…"

Sam twisted around so he was facing his brother. "I promise you. I'm going to find a way. I'm not letting you die, man. I'm not. I just got you back…I'm not losing you again."

Dean was quiet for a minute. Then he nodded.

Sam pushed himself to his feet. He reached over and pulled the faded afghan off the back of the armchair, then draped it over the older hunter.

"Why don't you get some sleep, huh? Getting your ass kicked by your little brother probably took a lot out of you," he deadpanned, giving Dean's knee a gentle shove.

"Whatever dude. You know… lucky for you I'm at death's door. Cause no other way you'd have taken me down. Seriously, you were WAY off your game."

Sam mouth quirked as he pulled off Dean's boots. "Guess we'll be needing a rematch once you're feeling better, then."

"Yeah," Dean replied quietly. "Guess we will."

Sam pulled the blanket up, his hand lingering for a moment on his brother's chest. Feeling his heartbeat.

It was weak…but there.

"Get some rest, Dean."

Sam watched as his brother's eyes slid closed and his face relaxed. He stood there for a minute, just watching his brother sleep. Trying to make sense of everything, trying to figure out what to do next.

Finally he turned and headed towards the stairs, stopping to grab his laptop from where it lay resting on the end table.

He had work to do.

TBC...

* * *

A/N- Thank you to everyone who's reviewed. This story is a runaway train, and I'm just along for the ride ;) Seriously, each time I write a chapter, I think "okay this could be the end." But there's still some plot bunnies hopping around so I figured, might as well play with them till they run off.

Hope you're all still enjoying it. Reviews always loved and snuggled.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- _hides in shame..._Okay, I know this chapter is ridiculously short, but work's been crazy so it's all I had time for.

Think of it as a teaser for the next chapter ;)

* * *

"Sam?"

Pulling his tired eyes from the computer screen, Sam turned to see Jessica leaning against the doorframe. She must have just woken up, her eyes were half open, hair mussed.

"Hey…" He closed the laptop and glanced at the clock.

_3 A.M._

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" He asked, watching as Jess stifled a yawn.

She smiled and moved over to where he he sat. Her hand brushed over his shoulder, coming to rest on the top of his head.

"Shouldn't you?" She countered, stroking his hair.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted... emotionally, physically, but there was no way in hell he'd be sleeping now. "No," he answered softly. "Not tonight."

She moved around the chair and sat down next to him, scooting him over with her hip so she could fit on the seat.

"You okay?"

He laughed. He was really starting to hate that question.

Her brows drew together in confusion."What I say?" She asked.

"Nothing..." He replied. "Just been a long night."

They sat in silence, the only sound the ticking of the wall clock.

Her hand rested on his knee, offering support, letting him know she would be there when he was ready to talk.

"Dean's sick, Jess."

Her hand tensed, eyes widened.

"The doctors. They told him there's nothing they can do, and- "His voice hitched as the words caught in his throat.

"God, Sam. I'm so sorry..."

He shook his head.

"All my life, he's always been the one to hold things together, you know? Always been the strong one. Always been...Dean. Seeing him like this... It's just wrong, Jess." He lifted his eyes to look at her, and her heart broke at the pain she saw there.

He absently traced the edge of the computer with his thumb. "I've been looking for a way to help him, but..."

He shook his head again.

"Hey." She squeezed his knee. "I believe in you, Sam... I'm sure Dean does, too. If something's out there, you'll find it. I know you will."

Sam's gaze drifted back to the clock. To the seconds ticking away.

Dean's chances, ticking away.

"God, I hope so." He whispered.

TBC...

* * *

So, again I apologize for the ridiculously short chapter... I was going to pair this scene with another, but work got the better of me. If only fanfic paid...sighs

Anyways, I do have the whole thing mapped out, so just need to get it all down.

Next chapter up shortly.

And I will reply back to the lovely reviews very soon. Just trying to capture the story before it flies away :)


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N- This entire story actually came about because of the idea for this chapter. What can I say? I just got a hankering for some quality Dean/Jess time (platonic of course). And then it just kind of steamrolled from there._

_And since I sort of cheated you all with the last bit, I included a pinch of hurt!dean at no extra charge._

_Enjoy!_

_(Oh, and if you happen to notice little changes in the earlier chapters, you are not going crazy. It is because I am compulsive and will fiddle with a story until I die...or until I post the last chapter. Whichever may come first ;)_

* * *

Dean woke to the sensation of something soft brushing his arm.

His mind was still foggy with sleep, but his hand instinctively reached for the knife under his pillow. Was surprised when it came up empty.

He blinked as he his eyes focused on the figure standing next to him. Focused on…Smurfs.

_The hell?_

He shook his head, the memory of last night's meeting finally coming back to him.

_Right, Smurfs. __Jessica. __Sam's girlfriend._

She was still wearing the faded T-shirt, though he noticed she'd since slipped into a pair of ripped jeans.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," she said, softly. She motioned towards the blue fleece now draped over him. " Thought you could use another blanket." She shrugged. "You seemed cold."

She didn't say that she'd seen him shivering, had heard his soft groans as she'd made her way downstairs.

"Thanks," he croaked.

_Damn._ Even he had to admit, he sounded wrecked.

He pulled the blanket tighter, trying to capture some extra warmth. Trying to eliminate the chill that had taken hold of his body since the accident.

He cleared his throat.

"Time is it?" Dean asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He shifted on the couch, his body sore from lying in the same position for too long. He hadn't known it was possible to actually bruise from pillows.

"Um...'bout noon," she replied, heading into the kitchen. "You want some coffee?"

Dean hesitated, remembering the doctor's words, his detached voice lecturing about the dangers of sugar and caffeine.

_Hell with it. What's it gonna do…kill me?_

"Love some." With a grimace, he pushed himself upright and leaned back heavily against the cushions. Even the small movement left him breathless.

He heard the sound of cabinets opening, the clink of glasses.

"Milk, sugar…?"

"Uh, black. Thanks."

A moment later, Jess came back into the room carrying two mugs.

She handed one to Dean, who accepted it gratefully, hands curling around the warm cup. He took a small sip of coffee, unable to mask the moan of pleasure he felt as the hot liquid course through his system.

"Ohhh yeah…," he said, happily. "That's the stuff."

"Good, huh?"

Dean lowered the mug with a contended sigh. "You have no idea..."

Her mouth twitched.

"Sam upstairs?" He asked.

"Library, I think. Found him passed out this morning on the laptop, drooling over the keyboard." She shook her head. "I keep telling him he's gonna electrocute himself one day if he's not careful."

Dean winced. "Yeah. That would be...unpleasant."

Jess was busy folding herself into the old armchair. She sat crosslegged, shifting slightly so she was facing Dean.

"He talk to you last night?" Dean asked, cautiously.

Jess tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "He told me that you were… sick."

Dean ran his thumb down the handle of the cup. "Somethin' like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? You have somethin' to do with it?"

She ducked her head. "No, but...you know."

He nodded, looked down at the mug in his hands. "Sammy, he...uh, he didn't take the news too well."

He could feel her eyes on him, her concerned gaze seeming to pierce right through him. The way Sam's did.

The way Sam's always had.

"You're his brother, Dean. He's worried about you."

Dean shifted awkwardly. He'd always just assumed Sam had moved on. Hell, the kid couldn't even be bothered to pick up a phone in two years.

"We've sorta…grown apart," he said flatly. "To be honest, I was kinda surprised he'd even mentioned me at all."

Jess was quiet. In truth, Sam had only broached the subject of his brother once…when he'd discovered her birthday had coincided with Dean's. He hadn't elaborated much, just sort of made a casual reference and Jess hadn't pushed.

"He didn't...very often," she admitted. "But to be fair, he never really talked about anything from his past."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, well our family. Let's just say we- "

"Weren't exactly the Brady's?" She offered.

"Kind of an understatement."

His eyes wandered over to the bookcase. The picture of Sam and Jess. The perfect couple. Smiling. Happy.

Normal.

No wonder Sam had bailed

Dean ran a hand over his chest, putting pressure over the area of his heart.

_Fuckin' caffeine._

Jess watched as he rubbed his chest, noting how pinched he looked all of a sudden. How his freckles stood out against too-white skin.

Dean's brow furrowed. He blinked rapidly, willing himself to calm down, to slow his heart rate.

"You okay?" She asked, worriedly.

"Yeah…" he said, voice tight. "Just a little heartburn."

"Maybe I should let you get some rest…," she began. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jess rising from the armchair.

Then the spasm hit and he didn't see much of anything.

His muscles contracted, pain ripping through him in a cruel replay of that night in the basement. He curled inward, head almost touching his knee, breaths coming in gasps as tremors wracked his body.

And then, just as quickly, it was over. Leaving him breathless and shaking.

"Dean?" Jess's worried voice cut through the haze. She was standing over him, hand hovering over his back. Unsure what to do.

"M'okay," he breathed, his voice not nearly as strong as he would have liked. "I'm okay. Just…just happens sometimes."

She looked at him, eyes filled with concern, not liking the paleness of his skin, the ragged way he was breathing.

"I'm calling, Sam." She said, pulling out her cell phone.

"No." He said more forcefully than he intended. "No…I'm okay." He swallowed. "I just need… There's pills." He nodded toward his duffel. "In my bag."

Her eyes narrowed, and he could practically see the internal debate raging within her. He really wished she'd stop looking at him like that. Like he was breakable.

Like he was weak.

"Jess..." He prompted.

She frowned but did as he'd asked.

He eased himself back down, rolling his head on the pillow so he could watch her rifle through his bag.

Good thing he'd left the weapons in the car.

She returned with three orange vials, reading the labels on each and measuring out the designated pills into her hand. "Here," she said quietly, pressing them into his palm. "Hold on. Let me get some water."

Dean closed his eyes. Rolled the pills around in his hand.

He felt Jess brush his arm, and cracked one eye open. "Thanks," he said, taking the glass from her.

She watched him toss back the capsules. Take a swig of water. Close his eyes again.

"I guess it's kind of pointless to ask if you're okay."

"I'm okay," he replied

She chewed her lip. Hesitated, not wanting to push him. "Does this...happen a lot?"

Dean opened his eyes. Saw her face tight with concern. "Used to be once in awhile," he answered quietly. "But these last few days..." He trailed off. Gave her a wry smile. "Think I'm kinda runnin' on borrowed time, here, Jess."

Her mouth tightened.

"Sam's not going to give up, Dean," she told him quietly. "He won't stop...not until he finds a way to help you."

Dean swallowed.

"I know. That's what I'm afraid of."

TBC...

* * *

So how'd it turn out? Didn't Mary Sue ya did I? _looks around nervously_

I found that writing Jess was kind of a challenge since, well, she only had like...5 minutes of screentime.

As always, reviews...good or bad...are polished, buffed and put on my mantle to be loved and adored.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N- Since the last chapter was a bit heavy, got somethin' a little lighter this round._

_And so our story continues..._

* * *

Jess shuffled the grocery bags in her arms, fumbling with one hand for the keys in her pocket.

She got the door open with only minimal cursing then made her way to the kitchen. As she passed the living room, she looked to see if Dean was still asleep. She found him awake with the remote in hand, a disgusted look on his face.

"You ever actually watch daytime TV?" He asked, his voice sounding tired even though he'd slept most of the morning. He flicked the channel. "S'terrible."

Jess smiled, as she walked past. "Nah, not really my thing. Though I did go through a Days of Our Lives phase when I was in high school."

Dean made a face.

"That fabric softener teddy bear. Ooh… I am _so_ gonna hunt that little bitch down," he muttered.

"What was that?" She called from the kitchen.

He tossed the remote aside. "Uh…nothing."

Jess reached into one bags for a can of soup. She'd learned after the first day that asking Dean if he was hungry was a lost cause. Between the constant pain and the medication he took to fight it, his appetite was all but gone. Instead, she'd switched to just setting something in front of him. To be polite, he would at least attempt a few bites.

Sam, however, was another story.

"Sam still upstairs?" She asked, dumping the soup into a pot.

Dean shifted restlessly on the couch. After three days of lying on the same piece of furniture, he was about ready to salt and burn it. He wondered after he was gone if there would be a Dean-shaped imprint left in the cushions. At least it would give his brother something to remember him by.

"Yeah. Kid still hasn't left the Batcave."

She stirred the soup, tasted a spoonful to test its warmth. When it was heated to her approval, she poured out two bowls.

Grabbing spoons and a sleeve of crackers, she carried out the food to Dean and placed a bowl in front of him.

"Jess…" He began. Just the smell was starting to turn his stomach.

She silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Don't start." She handed him a spoon. "Just have some, Dean. Please."

Dean sighed. "You know, you're worse than, Sammy."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said with a wink. "Now, I'm going to go force-feed your brother. I swear, is this like a Winchester thing? You guys have something against food?"

"Not as long as it's microwaveable or comes with grease."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sounds tempting."

Leaving Dean to work on the soup, after she'd glared him through a few spoonfuls, she headed upstairs to tackle Problem #2.

"Sam?" She called, sticking her head into the spare room they often used for work. He'd barely left it for the past three days, so she was surprised to find it empty. A noise down the hall caught her attention and she followed it curiously.

She found Sam in their bedroom, hastily throwing clothes into a duffel.

"What are you doing?" She asked, setting the bowl on the nightstand.

"I found it, Jess." He shoved a rolled pair of jeans in his bag before returning to the dresser.

"Found, what?"

"A way to help, Dean."

"You…?" She blinked, watched as he continued his frantic packing. She stepped in front of him, put a hand on his arm. "Sam. Wait. Just…stop for a second. Talk to me."

He took a breath. Could see that he was scaring her. "A friend of our Dad's," he said slowly. "He told me about this guy. A specialist."

Jess looked taken aback. "I mean, that's great.…"

"Which is why we have to go. Now."

"Now? Sam you haven't slept in days. When was the last time you even ate?"

"I'm fine."

"What about Dean? I mean, he's sick. And you're just gonna stick him in the car and take off?"

"He'll be okay."

"Sam…"

"_Jess."_ He said, more forcefully than intended. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I know you're worried, okay? But, I have to do this."

She frowned.

"It could be his only chance."

She looked up at him, saw the naked need in his eyes. The desperation.

"Okay." She said quietly.

He moved to the dresser again. Grabbed some shirts. Socks. Stuffed them in his bag.

Jess sat on the edge of the bed. Despite all the assurances, she was worried about him. He's been pushing himself for days and while years of finals and term papers had upped his ability to function on lack of sleep, she knew he would run himself to the breaking point with this.

He zipped up the duffel and quickly scanned the room, looking for any missed necessities. His gaze stopped on her worried face.

"Hey," he whispered, seeing her expression. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

He bent down to kiss her gently on the cheek, then swung his duffel onto his shoulder and headed downstairs to pack up his brother.

She sighed.

"At least tell me where you're going!"

* * *

"Keys."

Sam positioned himself between Dean and the driver's side door.

"Dude. Get out of here."

"You can barely stay upright, Dean. You're not driving." He held out his hand. "_Keys."_

Dean rolled his eyes. Truth was, he really didn't have the energy for this. With a sigh, he dug the keys out of his pocket and placed them in Sam's outstretched palm.

"Since when d'you you get so bossy?" He muttered, moving awkwardly towards the other side of the car.

Sam reached over and put a hand under his elbow, supporting him.

"Since now."

"If I do get better, remind me to kick your ass," he said, sliding onto the worn leather.

"_When_ you get better."

Dean pursed his lips.

He'd agreed to see this, specialist, or whatever it was Sam had found but he didn't actually believe it would lead anywhere. But the kid had worked so hard, Dean figured he might as well humor his brother. At least they would have one last road trip together.

It was as good a way to go as any.

Sam watched to make sure his brother was settled then closed the passenger side door.

He swallowed.

This would work.

This had to work.

Gripping the keys in his hand, he slid into the driver's seat. Felt his chest tighten at the memories that flooded back to him just being in the car.

_Holy shit. The Impala._

He ran his hands over the steering wheel, taking in the scents of leather and gun oil, the familiar feeling of his family. His home.

"You two want to be alone?"

Sam's head shot up.

Dean was lying back against the window, arms crossed. Grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

"You know, Sam. If you need a few minutes with my baby, I can step back inside. But you got to explain it to, Jess."

Sam flushed. "Shut up, jerk."

Dean snickered as Sam started up the engine.

"Why don't you get some sleep," Sam suggested pointedly.

Dean's good mood immediately vanished. He turned to look out the front window. "All I friggin' do these days is sleep."

Sam didn't take his eyes off the road, but his expression softened. "This is gonna work, Dean," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Dean slouched down in the seat and closed his eyes. "Whatever, dude. Wake me when we get there."

* * *

Dean woke to the feeling of being watched.

"For the billionth time… I'm okay, Sam," Dean muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.

After what had seemed like days on the road, but was really only a few hours, most of which Dean had spent conked out twisted in some ungodly position, the last thing he was in the mood for was his brother's constant hovering.

Sam glanced over and frowned. "Winchester 'okay' or actual 'okay'?"

"Dude."

"Just…you look uncomfortable. We can stop if you need."

Dean cracked one eye open. "My heart's fricasseed, bro. Comfortable's kind of a moot point by now."

Truth was, he felt like shit. As much as he loved his baby, sitting twisted in her front seat wasn't doing his ravaged body any good. He changed positions, almost didn't notice the twinge in his muscles. At this point, his pain scale was so screwed, part of him could have been on fire and he wouldn't have noticed.

"Sorry. Just uh, let me know if you need to stop."

Dean rolled his eyes. "How bout you _stop _worrying and get us there, Grandma? I swear you drive like you're 90."

"I'm sorry, alright."

"Jesus, Sam. Would you stop apologizing, already?"

"Sor- " Sam clamped his mouth shut.

He sighed and reached over for the radio knob. Dean promptly swatted his hand away.

"Uh uh. I'm not spending the next eight states listening to your emo crap," Dean muttered. He bent down, holding his breath as he moved, and came back up with a box of tapes.

Sam flicked his eyes over.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Dean pushed a cassette into the deck. "What?" He asked innocently, as AC/DC blasted through the car.

"Man," Sam said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "You have gotta update your cassette tape collection."

"Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two, time to let go of the mullet rock."

"You just don't know how to appreciate the classics, Sammy." Dean said, sitting back and closing his eyes.

His brother winced. "You know, _Sammy_ is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?

Dean brought a hand up to his ear and shook his head. "Sorry, what?" He yelled. "I can't hear you, the music's too loud.

At his brother's frustrated growl, Dean smirked.

Sam opened his mouth, fully ready to ream his brother out, but stopped. Remembered that he shouldn't upset his brother. Remembered that for all his joking, for all the smirks and light words, Dean was hurting. Dean was dying.

But he wouldn't be for long. Sam was gonna see to that.

He gripped the wheel tighter.

It was gonna be a long drive.

TBC...

* * *

_Oh man...so as much as I'm all for angst. I just love me some snark. Way more fun to write ;)_

_I would seriously just have the boys bicker in the car for 15 chapters, but apparently most people expect this thing called 'plot'. _

_Ah well. :P_


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke to the feeling of being watched.

_Oh for the love of..._

He grit his teeth.

"Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" He muttered, forcing his eyes open.

"Sorry."

"Dude, you crash my car and you're the one who's gonna need a specialist."

Sam guiltily turned back towards the road. "Geez, cranky much?"

"Yeah, well that whole imminent death thing'll do that to ya." Dean sat up, arms clutching himself a little tighter as he moved. God, he was so sick of feeling like crap.

Feeling like death warmed over.

"Don't joke about that, alright" Sam said quietly. "And I'm sorry. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm peachy." Dean rubbed his eyes. "S'where are we?"

"Um…almost through Wyoming. Just passed Laramie."

Dean nodded. Tried to massage the kinks out of his neck. Not that it mattered. Everything hurt.

Sam watched out of the corner of his eye. He'd attempted to get Dean to stretch out in the back, but his brother wouldn't have it.

_Ass._

They'd been driving for a full day, stopping a few times for food and pit stops, letting Dean stretch his pain-filled muscles. Since he'd had no intention of letting his brother behind the wheel, Sam been forced to stop once for the night, the days of stress and no sleep finally catching up with him. In truth, Sam had wanted to give Dean some time to rest too, his worry for his brother at war with his need to get to Nebraska.

To make his brother okay again.

They'd left early in the morning, both brothers somehow more tired than before they'd stopped.

After a quick breakfast, neither eating much, they drove on, Sam gripping the steering wheel, Dean gazing out the window. Both caught up in their own thoughts.

Somewhere around the state line, Dean's voice cut through the silence.

"Why are you doing this, Sam?"

Sam's brow furrowed. "What?"

Dean turned to look at him. "Why are you doing this? This specialist. This trip."

His brother opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off. "Jess. School. You have a life now. The one you always wanted. The one you left to get. Why are you putting it on the line?" His eyes drifted to the window again. "Hunting's a dangerous gig, man. We both knew that. I knew that...I had my chance."

"Dean…"

"You chose your life, Sam. I chose mine. This isn't your responsibility."

"The hell it's not."

Dean turned, surprised by the intensity in his brother's voice.

"Dammit, why can't you just accept that I care what happens to you, Dean?" Sam said angrily. "That I care whether you live or die!" He took a breath. Collected himself. "You're my brother, alright? You'll always be my brother." Sam set his jaw. "And I'll always do anything for you."

Dean was quiet.

Able to take in the words. Not so able to accept them.

Not because he thought Sam didn't care about him, he had never truly believed that. Rather he was hesitant to believe he still ranked so high on his brother's priority list. If he was being honest with himself, a part of him wasn't able to come to grips with the way Sam had taken on this quest for some miracle cure. Wasn't able to understand Sam's relentless determination to save him.

Wasn't able to believe he could be loved that much.

Sam too, was quiet, realizing what he'd said. Realizing just how much he'd meant it.

Silence stretched on. Though it still lingered on both their minds, neither brought up the two years. The subject that would inevitably always be the elephant in the room. The wound that would never heal.

Sam took a deep breath. Cleared his throat. "Besides," he added slowly. He glanced nervously at Dean. "I'm going to need a best man."

Dean looked up. Realization dawned on him, a rainbow of emotions moving across his face.

"Jesus," he whispered. He broke into a smile.

"You sly dog..." Dean said, reaching over and slapping his brother on the arm. "Atta boy, Sammy."

Sam's face reddened. "I, uh, proposed a few months ago. Right after I was accepted into law school. We've been keeping it quiet... Jess doesn't even wear the ring yet. Her parents want her to finish school first, but…"

"She's a great girl, Sam," Dean said, soberly meaning every word. His lip twitched. "Course, her taste in men sucks, but I can't really hold that against her."

Sam huffed softly, feeling tears prickle at his eyes. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean jabbed back.

And just like that they were okay again. Smiling. Happy.

Normal.

Dean looked down at his hands. "Naw. I'm proud of you, Sammy. Really. I'm glad you got what you always wanted."

Sam looked pointedly at Dean. "Not entirely," he said softly. His hands flexed on wheel. _Not yet._

"But I'm workin' on it."

He hit the gas.

_End._

* * *

_I admit...this is not where I planned to end it. But honestly, the boys never really just get to be happy so I couldn't go and angst em all up again when they'd had such a nice little chick flick moment._

_Besides, there's always sequels ;)_

_Thanks so much to everyone who kept me company on this little foray into writing. You guys made my day and I'm totally going to go through my inbox now and respond to your lovely comments._


	8. Author's Note

_So even though I ended this story where I did, I actually had more in my head for this 'verse._

_Since the muse is already handcuffed to my desk, I figured might as well start the sequel. The start of the new story 'Picking Up the Pieces' is now posted._

_Now I better just hide the paperclips…_

_Thanks for reading!_


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